The Answer to Your Question
by satanslut
Summary: *Set during Beneath You* Nancy's question has an unexpected answer. *Slash*


The Answer to Your Question

"Is there anyone here who hasn't slept together?"

And doesn't that little question just bring back uncomfortable memories of a different sort than Spike is used to these days. Well, Xander hasn't shagged Buffy – none of them would have ever heard the end of it if he had – and Buffy hasn't shagged Anya – more's the pity since that would have been a sight to see – but…

His eyes find Harris's for a split second then they both look away. Yeah, now would be 'not the time for that', wouldn't it? Because there's the small matter of Anya and Nancy's moronic wish and the havoc it's creating. But none of that logic makes the memory go away. Doubt the whelp has banished it either, though he knows damn well the boy's tried to every minute of every day since.

He still wonders what the hell was so bloody awful about it. Okay, yeah, there's that macho American hang-up about shagging other blokes and the whole ridiculous idea of categorizing yourself, but Spike could have got him over all that if he'd been given the chance. Wasn't, though, was he? Nope, it was 'wham, bam, hate you, vamp,' and in hindsight it seems to have been a preview of coming attractions with the love of his unlife.

Because yeah, he loves Buffy – still, for eternity – and it tastes of Drusilla and Angelus and everything he knows about passion. But lingering inside there's this itch that he can't quite scratch and it's in that unfinished space where his one-night-stand-that-didn't-even-go-the-w

hole-night with Xander remains in his mind.

Bugger. Now he's starting to wish he _had _forgotten; it's getting in his head and making him confused. He had enough of that right after getting this soul shoved back where it really doesn't belong and… the conversation is still going on.

Yeah, now's the time for ol' Spike to step in with some useful information. "Sluggoth demon. Am I right?" He qualified his statement despite his certainty – maybe because there's so much else he's not certain about and he wants to be… _needs _to be.

Of course, a spot of violence would help. Anya, luckily, seems poised to provide it as she insults the partner they have in common and gives Spike a chance to start something. "Bite me, Harris. I have rules to work with. Vengeance demon codes of conduct. But you'll never understand 'cause you're all still so... human."

Spike picks up his cue. "I'm not. Demon, just like yourself, Anya. Now, you're gonna turn the spell around like a good little vengeance demon or I…" She's staring at him now and there's something like fear in the pit of his stomach. "What?" She's a demon – he almost forgot that – and she might be able to see… but damn her, this is not the time or the place for spilling the beans about the little trinket he picked up at that not-actually-a-gift-shop in Africa.

But no, that's not what she decides to share with the class. "You? And Xander?"

Xander splutters like the terrible liar that he is while Spike tries his damnedest to look innocent as snow. It's not working. Bugger. "I saw that look you two gave each other. Now I know why you left me at the altar," Anya crows while Buffy and Nancy stand, mouths agape. "You're gay!"

"I am so not gay!"

Which Spike supposes is true enough. The boy's more bisexual than strictly gay; still, he can't hold back a chuckle. "You faked it bloody well," he snarks, enjoying the gobsmacked look on Buffy's face far more than a souled demon should.

Xander points at him in his rather girly and pathetic way. "You… you… I was drunk!"

"Not that drunk," Spike shrugs. "You didn't have a bit of trouble performing… or getting up off your knees after…"

"You performed oral sex on him?" Anya asks and her eyes are shining with a curiosity that isn't a damn thing like jealousy. Buffy is still standing like a statue, though she's made the odd, incoherent vowel sound. "When did this happen?" Anya steps close to Xander, her manner back to accusatory. Spike's almost worried for the boy, at least until… "And why didn't you let me watch?"

Now he can't help it – for the first time since this wretched soul was shoved back into him, he laughs. Loud and long and beautiful. He's gonna be okay, he decides.

And that would be the _second _time Harris has given him that gift.

If they live through tonight, he and the boy are gonna have a talk.

The End.


End file.
